


Falling

by goddessofcruelty



Series: Big House [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's past comes to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Breyito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breyito/gifts).



> Prompt: May I request some Petopher + riding crop so Chris can teach Peter the error of his past ways?   
> Prompt: May I ask for Peter and Chris going to some horse-thing (or anywhere, but together) and the old lady being there and pointing at Peter about to make an scandal? And then Chris says something and saves the day?

_Oh, fuck. Fuck no._

Peter sees her coming from a mile away, that awful combination of colors and the atrocious abuse of accessories.

He knew he shouldn’t have come, he didn't want to come. What the fuck does Peter care about horses?

But Chris loves them, and _he_ loves Chris, and now he's royally fucked because the actual Lord Argent doesn't have a fucking clue what kind of person Peter was before they'd gotten together.

Well, he sort of has an idea, because obviously Peter stole his inheritance, but Peter usually prefers to let him think that it was a matter of convenience and not some sort of pattern of behavior.

And _shit_ , yes, now they're talking.

And now Chris is looking around for him.

Peter turns to go somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, but he's caught, hears his name with that underlying threat to it that means he'd better get his ass right over there right now.

So Peter does, turns and puts on his best face, mind scrambling to think about how he can best spin this, best make it seems less bad than it really is, but he's apparently too late.

“The Lady Graeme here was just telling me that you two have met before.” 

Chris' voice is calm, his face blank, and Peter can't read him right now. He's thinking maybe the lady didn't tell him, maybe she didn't want everyone to know about her embarrassment. 

Maybe it's going to be alright.

Peter turns his attention to the woman, prepared to act like a casual acquaintance.

He starts to say something bland and cordial, but she lifts her parasol, and jabs him in the heart with it.

“I told him everything, you bastard. You won't fleece that one now. He's going to throw you out on your ears, you worthless coward.”

And with that impassioned diatribe, she flounces off, leaving Peter with his eyebrows arched, staring after her.

It takes him a second to recover himself, and then Peter composes his features, turns to his partner.

“Chris-”

“Don't.”

Chris' voice is hard, harder than Peter has ever heard it directed at him before.

Suddenly, there's a cold fist around his heart.

-

He should have known. Chris knew that Peter was a bit of a scoundrel. It showed in the conversations that he had with Stiles, ruthlessly speculating and turning profits. Not to mention the whole pretending to be him thing.  


Maybe on some level he did know, because when he hears an old woman screaming “Thief” and pointing in Peter's direction, he immediately certain that she's talking about the younger man.

And so he smoothly intercepts her, knowing that if she seems under control, no one will even take an interest in their conversation. 

“My Lady, I'm Lord Chris Argent. How can I help you?”

“Do you know that ma?,” and dammit, she's pointing again. Chris takes her hand in his and squeezes it gently. 

“Has he done you some wrong, Lady ...?”

“Graeme. Tara Graeme. And yes. He..” She bursts into tears and has to take a moment to dig through her purse.

Chris offers her his handkerchief, which she uses to dab at her eyes.

“He stole my jewels, Lord Argent. All I had left of my mother, my family heirlooms and he stole them all.” She's sobbing and Chris lowers his head a moment, rubbing his forehead.

When he looks up, his eyes are hard. 

“Lady Graeme, I will _personally_ see to it that he pays for his crimes.”

He looks over his shoulder to where Peter had gone for refreshment, and sees the swindler subtly edging back away. He's obviously seen them talking.

“Peter.” 

Chris sees it, sees the moment Peter decides to stay. 

Because he could have taken off running and been out of there, could have gone back to his old life, but he turns around and faces the music. 

And in that moment, Chris' heart swells, because he knows that it's all for  _ him _ .

But now is not the time. So he carefully blanks his expression.

“The Lady Graeme here was just telling me that you two have met before.” 

-

Chris doesn't talk to Peter until they get home.

The second their feet hit the dirt of their own land, Chris turns to the younger man.

“Do you still have them?”

Peter nods once.

“Get them, and anything else you took from that poor woman, and meet me in the stable. You have ten minutes.”

Peter nods again and goes directly to the library, taking out a strongbox. He hadn't been able to sell any of them at first, and then, well...he hadn't needed to. The clothes that he'd stolen from her husband are also easily obtained. And the horse is, of course, in the stable.

Peter takes these items and heads to find Chris.

He's barely in the door when he sees the older man leaning against an open stall, toying with a riding crop in his hands. Peter halts, just standing there, with all the stuff in his hand.

Chris points at a table and Peter sets everything there. 

“Count them.” 

Peter furrows a brow.

“The jewelry.” 

The thief is confused, but does so. “Eighteen pieces of jewelry.”

Chris's gaze is still cold. “Plus a set of clothing, plus a horse. That rounds things out nicely to an even twenty.”

Peter is still lost.

“Strip.” 

Okay, Peter is now one hundred percent on board with the proceedings. Maybe everything's alright now that he's given Chris the stuff?

Apparently not. Because once Peter's nude, he's ordered to grab the ring that a horse's leads would be tied to.

Chris kicks his legs apart, which puts Peter on full display, and he's feeling particularly exposed, and then there's a sudden stripe of fire across the small of his back.

Peter yelps in pain but doesn't let go of the ring, just lowering his head when he hears the gritted command to count.

The swindler is _completely_ clear on what's happening now.

So he does. 

“One.”

The next blow is straight across his ass, the third somewhere halfway in between. Peter quickly learns to brace himself when he hears the crop cutting through the air.  


He manages five before things start getting hazy, and around ten, Peter's sure he can't take any more, especially when the riding crop starts biting into his thighs.

Chris takes a break then, reaches out to drags his fingers lightly across the marks he's made and  _ oh _ , suddenly Peter's feeling the stinging resolve into a pleasant burn.

“You're doing so well, Peter.” Chris murmurs, “You're being such a good boy for me. I know you can do it.”

Peter's half-hard now, listening to the praise from the man he loves, and he finds a resolve within himself to do this, to be perfect for Chris.

And he does, Peter manages to make it all the way to twenty without messing up the count, without letting go of the ring, voice hoarse and raspy by the time he's through.

Chris sets the crop on top of the box of jewels, and traces the new welts gently, as Peter trembles in his pose, face streaked with tears.

Finally, Chris gives him the order to let go, and Peter finds he can't for a moment, his hands have cramped into that position.

Chris massages them silently until Peter can use his hands normally, and then Chris orders him on hands and knees.

The younger man obeys immediately, enough though he's weary and hurting.

“Hold.”

Peter does, even though his muscles all feel like they're shaking, he locks himself into that position and doesn't move. 

He doesn't even look up when his ears register the unmistakable sounds of Chris' hand moving on himself, flesh sliding against flesh, or when Chris starts talking to him.

“You earned every stroke of that, Peter, and your punishment is not over yet.” He takes a deep breath. “But the way you _look_ , my marks across your back, it's fucking gorgeous. I love marking you, Peter, making sure that you and everybody else knows that you're mine.”

Peter can hear the older man's voice getting breathy as he gets closer and closer to orgasm.

“And you were amazing, obeyed every order, did everything I asked.”

Peter has to bite back a moan because he's so goddamned hard now, listening to Chris fuck his own fist while he compliments Peter. And the welts have resolved into one mass of throbbing warmth that's blooming across his body.

Peter wants to reach down and touch himself, wants to rub up on Chris like a cat, wants anything that will give him some fucking  _ friction _ . But he doesn't do any of that, no, Peter fucking stays put because he's going to get himself back in Chris' good graces if it kills him.

And as he feels the hot splashes of Chris' come covering the welts, and the wounds begin stinging anew, he thinks it just might.

-

Peter sleeps in the stall that night, naked in the straw, rope looped lightly around his ankle and through the ring in the wall.

This, too, is part of his punishment. he is not allowed to share the bed with Chris until he gets back.

Because Peter is apparently going on a journey.

Chris unties him, allows him to wash, brings him plain servant's clothing to wear.

All the jewels and fancy clothing that Peter absconded with are tucked in saddlebags, fastened on the horse that Peter will be leading all the way back to the old lady he fleeced.

“You have a choice here, Peter.” Chris is stern. “You can take this and run. But if you do, don't ever come back.”

Peter nods softly, eyes watching the other man.

“Or you can return this, accept that what you did was wrong, swear to never do anything like that again, and come back here.”

Chris looks at him, and Peter can see the sadness warring with hope in his eyes.

“I'll be waiting.”

Peter sets out, walking when he could have ridden the horse, dressed in what amounts to rags when he's carrying jewels. And never once does he feel tempted to cut and run.

He does what the older man had asked, returns the things and apologizes to the Lady.

And then, then Peter comes right home to Chris.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: Falling Away From Me by Korn
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything. <3
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


End file.
